The Space Between Us
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Set in Quiet Minds, during the lost FTL year. Under the control of the Wicked Witch fighting for Rumplestiltskin meant running from him. But Belle has hope and books have never failed her.


She ran out of supplies soon, but having read her share of botanical books gave Belle the ability to forage for food. Hollowed trees and remote caverns became her home, Lumiere providing warmth to stave off the winter chill. He was a good man beneath it all, fond of chatter and obviously guilty about the events that had transpired near the Dark One's vault. A desperate soul, Rumple would call him, thinking himself willing to do anything for his freedom only to discover some prices were too high. He clearly fell indebted to her both for leading her astray and for having the compassion to take him along when she escape the with and her new slave. That last act seemed to have convinced her she was something rare and of great value that he needed to help and protect, so he shared with her his knowledge of the land, the warmth of his fire and provided her with whatever insight he might be able to offer.

It was him who helped her decide what to do. At first her mind focused on running, not only from Rumplestiltskin but also from that day by the vault and the consequences of Neal's blind sacrifice in the name of his family. Many night she spend curled up, unable to focus on anything but the futility of it all. A curse to find a son led to the son using a curse to find the father so he could find his own son. In the end no generation had gotten what they wished. And with all her smarts, and all her hope she had played a part in it.

Lumiere's constant attention, his stubborn determination to draw her into conversation and get her interested in the world as something other than a place to hide in, made all the difference in the end. He encouraged her to make plans, reminding her that the Wicked Witch needed to be stopped and to pay for her crimes. Belle's immediate reaction was to secure the Dark Castle once more. It was a vast source of magic and magical knowledge and held many of Rumplestiltskin's secrets. It was also the place where Belle had been the happiest and it made her skin crawl to think of the Witch defiling it.

It was then that the candlestick found himself a valuable asset. By nature of his confinement he was only awake when his candles were lit but once lit he could peer through any flame in the realms. He dove into the role of spy with relish, gathering information about the whereabouts of the Witch and her puppet to find a moment where the dark castle would be left completely unattended.

They snuck in at the first opportunity, but the initial plan to find the spell that Rumplestiltskin had had her use of Storybrooke to shield it proved fruitless. But Belle didn't lack resourcefulness, and having lived a long time in the Dark Castle meant she was well-aware of the existence of a contingency plan, which Rumplestiltskin had relied to her back when she was his maid. A way to seal some of the most important rooms in the estate so that no one but the person who'd sealed them could have access to them. Once upon a time he'd been adamant she learn, talking about the need to protect his precious things- though he'd made it a point to stress how safe SHE would be inside the sealed rooms in case of an emergency. Belle couldn't be more grateful for his foresight, and his insistence they practice the procedure. Soon she'd sealed away his lab, his bedroom, the spinning room and her own library, where she spent several days regrouping, researching and gathering provisions.

Sadly there was little written about the Dark One's compulsion and nothing on the Witch. And though a warm bed and plenty of food was tempting enough to persuade her to stay each night, when she gazed out the window of her library, she felt the call of Rumple, half-mad with grief and with the effort to keep his son alive in some way. The castle was the safe choice, but staying would not help her cause of setting Rumple free or vanquishing the witch.

It was surprisingly easy to decide to leave, however much Lumiere protested. A magical satchel able to contain more than it seemed without weighting a thing allowed her to prepare herself better for a long journey, with clothing, books and food aplenty. She entertained briefly the idea of going to where the other Storybrooke residents had taken refuge, but discarded the notion immediately. In such a place she'd never be heard, despite that people like Regina were plenty of attention and input. And besides for them Rumplestiltskin would be a secondary problem, one safer to destroy than to solve. Lumiere, she decided, was all the company she needed.

In the end it proved smart to leave the castle, since almost at once she could feel herself being... hunted. A glimpse or two into the right dying embers of a fire let her know that, when she was not occupied fighting the forces of Snow White and the Evil Queen, the Wicked Witch devoted some of her "best resources" to tracking down a wayward girl who'd escaped her clutches.

"She means Rumple. She's having Rumple track me down to kill me."

It seemed the sort of sick twist that would appeal to the woman who'd tricked the Dark One's son into resurrecting his father to the cost of his own life. Had she stayed in the Dark Castle she would've eventually been trapped inside a sealed room, starving to death. As it was the fact that Rumple hadn't caught up with her yet spoke volumes of how much he was fighting against the pull of the dagger.

Strangely enough finding herself being chased by the Dark One gave Belle her one and only source of happiness. Whenever she fled a place she made sure to leave behind a token. A spring of flowers- striped carnations, to mean "I'm sorry I can't be with you", a note tucked safely away to tell him how loved he was and how sharply she longed for him, some bits of candy, whenever she managed to find a kitchen where to cook and other small offerings, like ribbons from her hair or carefully-stitched handkerchiefs.

The first time she returned to one of her hiding spots, a last minute decision forced by the circumstances, to find a small, hand-woven golden bracelet, made from familiar golden strands, she cried for what seemed like hours. Lumiere fretted more than usual, and went as far as to sing for her lively tunes from his mother land. From then on she alternated between looking for new hiding places that might yield some useful information and returning to some of her abandoned refuges, hoping to collect some new token.

Months passed that way, and winter gave way to spring. She heard through the grapevine that Snow White was happily with child and though she felt happy for it- after all, Snow and Charming had had little joy when it came to parenthood- another part of her couldn't help but feel a pang. Second chances seemed to be a thing that happened to other people but never to her or those close to her heart.

That ache, low in her belly, grew each day inside her till not even Rumplestiltskin's small, loving gifts could dim it. In spite of Lumiere's misgivings she returned once more to the Dark Castle, desperate for a bit of magic, any bit of magic, that could help her see Rumplestiltskin, even for a fraction of a second. She gathered the most ancient magical tomes she could find and when she dared not remain in the castle she took them with her, pouring over the texts at night while fleeing by day. It seemed, however, that there was no counteracting the dagger's pull, one of the most ancient binding curses in existence.

What she did find, inside one of the dustier books, was information regarding a clearing of sorts, tucked just beneath the mountains in a place that had long ago been forgotten. Such a clearing was unique for inside it there was no magic. The trees that lined it had been magical, but after cutting them down the soil and the very air had lost all traces of magic. Inside that clearing curses and spells became ineffective, dormant. In such a place the dagger's compulsion would be nullified.

No magical being could spend more than a day inside the clearing before suffocating, for all things born of magic needed it like they need air, but a day seemed more than enough for Belle. A day was better than nothing.

She began to leave various clues, hidden messages alerting her love of what she was planning, and then set out to the mountains, her journey made easy by the tunnels that ran beneath them, constructed a long time ago by dwarves. Her lingering fears of the reality of the clearing where soon proved false when she reached it and, once inside, attempted to summon Lumiere to no avail. He was safely tucked inside his candlestick and she wrapped him carefully in a soft cloth, hiding him in the depths of her satchel. From then on all she could do was wait, reading during the day and lighting up candles at night in hopes he'd find her.

He appeared as the sun fell on the sixth day of her vigil. He seemed terrified and adoring at the same time, looking at like she was a miraculous thing. Cautiously he edged closer, clearly terrified that the clearing would not work as legends said it did. At some point he seemed to sense some change, his breathing growing laboured and his whole body shuddering. He closed his eyes, suddenly looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Belle..."

His voice was rough, almost a croak. He took a few steps towards her and then his legs failed him, sinking down on his knees before her. He looked exhausted and yet relieved when he rested his head against her stomach, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, a hand sinking into his hair to press him as close to her as possible.

"Rumple... my Rumple..."

He made a keening sound on the back of his throat and then his arms were around her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, leaving bruises in their haste to feel her curves through her clothing. He murmured things into her belly, claws sinking into the brocade of her vest, threatening to tear it to shreds. He was stripped of all pretences and theatrics she associated with his scale form, letting her see fully the desperate, broken man that he was. She cursed herself when she felt her eyes welling up, hot tears soon streaking down her cheeks. How selfish of her, to cry when it was him who needed her support, him the one suffering. He looked up when she hiccupped, with those golden eyes she'd secretly missed back in Storybrooke and she clapped a hand against her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the sobs and regain a semblance of control. "I'm just..."

He whined and pressed himself against her once more, shaking his head.

"No, don't do that. You do that with everyone, but I'm not everyone. Don't do that with me, don't hide, don't hide, don't hide..."

She shushed him with gentle scratches against his scalp, bending down awkwardly to plant a kiss on the top of his head. Finally, when she could speak without crying, she asked him to stand up. When he did he cut an imposing figure, his dark clothes and scaly skin making him frightening to behold. But all Belle could see is how tired he was, how weighted down by grief. Her hands immediately rose to frame his face, stroking his temples as he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Are you alright? Is... is she treating you...?"

He turned his head to nuzzle her left palm, the gesture strangely soft and vulnerable for such a powerful figure. He didn't answer her, and she didn't press him. She bit her lip, wondering whether she should ask the next question on the tip of her tongue.

"And... and Bae... Is Bae alright?"

He pressed his cheek harder against her palm and nodded, tapping a finger against his temple.

"He's tucked away in here. Usually he's more... more active. The lack of magic in this place makes him dormant like it makes the curse dormant. But he's safe in here."

He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself so she said nothing. This solution Rumplestiltskin had concocted up in a hurry... it couldn't last. Sooner or later he'd have to face it. It was, however, something she didn't care to discuss. They had too little time together as it was. She kneaded his nape, noticing the tension running through his body. She also noticed the warmth and how solid his muscles felt beneath her touch.

"What's the matter? Belle, Belle, hush, please, please..."

It was only when she looked into his worried eyes that she realized she was crying again.

"I'm sorry, it's just..." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "You're real. You're alive."

His lips curled into the semblance of a smile before he leaned over to kiss her forehead.

"I'm sorry. I had no choice. I wanted to protect you, to protect Bae and Henry... I wanted to break the cycle. I wanted my son to be proud of me, to know I was choosing him." He kissed her forehead again, over and over, soft, whispery kisses that almost felt unreal. "And I wanted to deserve you. To fight for you, like you always do for me. You've sacrificed so much for me."

His mouth grew hot and desperate as it pressed against her forehead and cheeks, his tongue peeking out to lick away her tears. It was the straw that broke the camel's back for Belle, what made her yank him close and seek out his lips with her own. He made an almost feral sound and then grasped her roughly by the waist, yanking her as close as possible despite his restrictive clothing. The kiss was all teeth and graceless need, noses bumping and lips bruising as they pawed at each other, attempting to make themselves into one single person. It was always there, the space between them, separating them over and over. Magical emergencies, entitled monarchs, unwelcomed family members, enemies with a grudge or grandiose schemes. Everything came before them, between them, keeping them apart, keeping them fighting for nothing, always for nothing.

She grunted impatiently when her hands attempted to yank his long coat off but couldn't find the fastening that kept it closed. With an impatient little sound Rumple used his long nails to cut through the cords, quickly shrugging out of his coat and tugging on her own so she did the same. Undressing and kissing seemed to be two highly incompatible activities yet they found a way around it, a sort of dance of teeth and tongues and limbs and clothing. Belle struggled to remember the spots he liked licked, what drove him besides himself. Rumple thirsted for control, craved it above all else, but he always surrendered it to her and what she made him feel and that was something that was only hers. The Wicked Witch might have the dagger but no one would ever hold as much power over Rumplestiltskin as Belle did. And it was a rush to know that it thrilled him, it excited him.

"You're mine." Her voice was rough, her usually soft accent pronounced as he practically tore off his vest, moving to kiss his neck. He nodded jerkily one hand coming to rest on her right upper thigh to lift her leg and press her as close to his groin as possible.

"Yes, yes, yes! Make it go away, Belle, please... She touches the blade and it's like she sticks her filthy little fingers inside me and I want to crawl out of my skin. Make it go away, please, please..."

He was half-crazy with desperation, which gave him enough strength to simply rip her shirt off, revealing the corset laced on the front. He cut through it like it was butter but despite that she knew that one word, one gesture that gave even the slightest hint of refusal from her would make him retreat instantly. She managed to get him out of his silk shirt before he divested her completely of her own shirt and undergarments, his hands immediately curving around her waist and caressing her sides, his eyes focused on her breasts. She took advantage of his pause to tug his boots off, one at the time, and then grapple with the fastening of his breeches, wondering if the leather would slide easily down his scaly skin. His hands wrapped themselves around her own, stopping her. When she looked up she saw apprehension in his eyes, a fear that had nothing to do with witches or daggers.

"What is it?"

He turned his face away from her, though it seemed to pain him. Belle felt dread growing in the put of her stomach, her own dormant insecurities beginning to crawl to the surface.

"I'm sorry. I... I hoped my magic being suppressed here would mean I'd revert to my human form but... I'm afraid that this old body doesn't improve with the addition of scales, Belle."

She let out a breath she hadn't know she was holding, her whole body relaxing. Slowly, so he wouldn't feel the need to retreat, she stepped closer to him, lifting her right hand to run her fingers lightly down his exposed torso. The skin was warm to the touch, the slightest bit more slippery than regular human skin, and when the moonlight hit it just right it seemed to change colours.

"I fell in love with this form of you, though you seem to forget it. And though I was a maiden, relatively sheltered in my innocence, the love that I bore you wasn't merely spiritual, or emotional." Her hand kept tracing patterns along his belly, up his chest and down his arms. "It started with curiosity... You know I have an enquiring mind. I wondered about your skin, about how it'd feel. A bit... later, I started having other urges. I had read about the clinical aspect of coupling but nowhere had anyone written about desire, or attraction. I felt like something was wrong with me because Gaston had been so strong and handsome and yet I had never felt... anything. And you were odd and unnatural and instead of repulsing me it aroused me."

She wrapped herself around him, soft and artless in her seduction, pressing her breasts against his scaly chest and moaning low in her throat.

"I had... such dreams. I grew worried that you might hear your name on my lips and discover the extent of my depravity. I thought it... unbecoming of a lady to fantasize like I did. Even after... after we parted, I still wanted you and wondered. The queen taunted me about it, about there being something wrong with me for..." She paused, as if upset, and he held her close, giving into the urge to rub his scaly cheek against her bare shoulder, eliciting another purring noise from her. "And when we were reunited in Storybrooke I found you just as enticing as an ordinary man, with all that it implied. But I must admit..." She bit her lip when he nipped at her neck, hands splaying across his back so she could run her nails gently down. "I always... wondered. About what it would've been like, all scale and golden eyes. About how it'd have felt, about the friction and the sweat and if it'd have made a difference." She rubbed herself against him, finding his skin the littlest bit rough when she rubbed up and slick when she came down.

"R-r-really?"

When her hands left his back to once more unlace his breeches he didn't fight them. When she didn't immediately remove his pants he shimmied out of them himself, lifting her gaze to Belle's to see her admiring his body. Her face was an open book to him so there was no doubting the spark of desire in her eyes, or the love beneath, peaking from behind dilated pupils. He watched her unlace her own trousers, sliding out of them with the grace of a dancer, of a person who has spent plenty of time doing physical exercise. Their game of chase clearly became her.

When he pressed them close once again he strove to make her feel as much of his skin as possible, marvelling at the subtle way the feel of her own curves differentiated from when he'd felt her against his more human body. A hand plunged into her hair to set it free from its lose ponytail, marvelling at the softness of her curls. He'd always had a fascination for her hair. At first he'd idly wondered what it would feel like to run his claws through it, not only for the texture but because it'd imply a level of trust and intimacy he craved. His thoughts morphed and changed with time, images of gentle touches being replaced by hands fisting on her curls to angle her head up so he could devour her neck, to keep her from wiggling as he drove into her, finding a rhythm in the music of her moans. Even after he'd gained the right to touch it he'd always retained a sort of reverence when it came to her hair, finding that running a comb through it was almost as soothing as spinning. Now, however, they had to time or patience for soothing or slow so he let his fingers curl around some locks and pull, strongly enough to sting but not hurt. Belle bared her throat to him at once, sighing when his tongue started tracing nonsensical paths against her skin, lapping up the slight saltiness of her sweat.

Though theirs was now a well-known dance the addition of the open outdoors space, Rumplestiltskin's inhuman nature and the urgency that came with the knowledge of what separated and threatened them beyond the safety of the clearing made it all strangely unfamiliar, new somehow. Rumplestiltskin's dextrous fingers unlaced her breeches quickly, his mouth travelling downwards as he slid the garment down her legs, thanking whatever deity that she had forgone footwear altogether. He paused briefly when his rough hands found lace around her hips and sex, puzzled when he noticed she was wearing modern underwear. He toyed briefly, while nuzzling her bellybutton and sighing at the feel of her fingers massaging his scalp, about tearing the flimsy panties to shreds, letting his claws have at them, but the part of him that was always focused on Belle's well-being reasoned that she couldn't possibly have clothes to spare, much less modern-day ones which must have been conjured up. He settled for sliding them off so slowly Belle started to wiggle and shift on her feet, flushed and impatient. His nose dipped into her curls, seeking out her scent. In his imp form his senses were much sharper to the point that he could make out the emotions hidden in smells and sounds. He picked up on Belle's sorrow rather quickly, and her exhaustion. Running away was certainly taking a toll on her. But beneath that there was hope, sweet and bit tart, and love, tangy and sharp and wonderful.

He helped ease her down into a pile of pelts Belle had turned into an impromptu bed for her vigil, sliding up her body to kiss her, letting her feel as much of his scales as she desired. Her legs wrapped around his hips, the sole of her feet rubbing against his calves, eliciting little pinpricks of pleasure along the way. His hands found her waist first and then travelled to caress the underside of her breasts, knowing how sensitive she was there. The roughness of his green skin seemed to cause more of a sensation that usual and soon enough she was shifting and arching, nails digging on his shoulder blades. He wished to ask her to scratch him as long and deep as she could, to mark him and give him something that would hurt in a good way. But Belle didn't seem to need to be told, dragging her manicured fingernails down his back, hissing a bit when they caught slightly on his scales.

"God, Belle..."

He grunted when she gingerly ran the pads of her fingers over the stinging wounds. It was too much, and after too long, so he scrambled to catch her hands on his own, lacing them together and pressing them against the soft furs beneath them. He lowered his mouth to her chest to keep exploring her breasts, noticing the cool air had already hardened her nipples. She was almost too fair under the light of the moonlight, and the thin sheet of sweat made her glow somehow. She was so beautiful... too beautiful. His own ugliness seemed more of a complement than a jarring dissonance.

"I wanna touch you, Rumple."

She struggled to free her hands but her heart wasn't in it. She wrestled playfully against him, tightening her grip on his hips and rubbing herself ever-so-innocently against his hardened cock. He bit her left nipple in punishment, supressing a need to wiggle happily when she let out a throaty moan. He'd never been with a woman as vocal and open as Belle. Milah had been shy at first, and he suspected she'd never truly enjoyed their times together, maybe because of the way they'd both been brought up. Cora had kept things close at heart, finding the idea of putting herself in a vulnerable position with anyone, including him, distasteful or downright dangerous. He'd expected Belle to be shy too, and wary of him, but she'd relished in their intimacy, never thinking of guarding herself against him no matter how much he always seemed to unwittingly hurt her.

He licked and suckled her breasts till he felt the taste of her would linger in his tongue forever. She was flushed all over, eyes nearly black and hair a tangled mess and he wagered he looked a bit the same, untamed and a bit unhinged. He let go of one of her hands to shakily grasp himself, biting back a curse when the mere touch of his hand made his balls tightened slightly, and guided himself inside her. She felt tighter that he remembered, and overwhelmingly hot. Ever since he'd risen from the vault he'd been cold and numb but being inside Belle shocked him back into life. He guessed it was the combination of the act itself, the beginning of life, and the love that they bore each other. Suddenly he was desperate for more, for every bit of warmth he could steal from her and keep for himself. He thrust in and out of her with none of the gentleness that he'd always strived for, letting go of her hands so he could fists the furs beneath her, his whole body suddenly tense and desperate. Belle seemed just as needy, pressing herself as tight as she could against him and murmuring soft nonsense into his ear, hands flat against his slashed back.

It was the most ungraceful he'd ever been, an animalistic rutting in the woods but at the same time it was the most intimate moment he'd ever known. He lost sight of where he ended and she began, of which grunts and pleas were his and which hers and when he tipped over the edge, his orgasm raw and close to painful, he knew instinctively that she had found release too. She muttered his name, the only sound to reach him over the roaring sound of blood in his ears, and he immediately moved his head to the side, sloppily catching her lips with her own in a soft, wet kiss. True Love's kiss, if it weren't for the clearing. Once more something he did not have the luxury of accepting from her, lest he lose his boy once and forever.

The afterglow was spent with sipping kisses and soft caresses, words like "darling", "sweetheart" and "love" flowing like a river out of their lips. They dozed off in a sticky, warm tangle of limbs and fur and when he woke her again it was to drink her down, her legs draped around his shoulders, not as soft-looking as they were before she'd started running. All of her seemed stronger, including her grip on his cock when she straddled him facing his groin and sought to repay the clever use of her tongue with her delicate little fingers. Her nails scraping softly against his balls proved to be too much for him and his orgasm left him once more lethargic and strangely in peace. Belle snuggled down beside him, forcing herself to remain awake and alert. Once he was deeply asleep she'd have to gather herself and her supplies and run once more, as far as she could before he had to leave the clearing and came again under the influence of the dagger.

"I will fight for you. Please fight too, Rumple."

She kissed him lightly on the lips, willing herself not to cry anymore, and dressed as silently as possible, leaving nothing but the pelts behind as she slipped away a few hours before dawn, never looking back. if she did she'd never leave.


End file.
